Her words were banging around in my head while I sat in her office.
That wasn’t right.
No. I was supposed to grow up, have babies, raise them, screw them up, and live happily ever after. There was no “infertility” in my future.
I had read about the crippling effects of infertility in books, I had seen what it could do to families, and I had talked about it with friends who had experienced it firsthand. But I wasn’t prepared for the feelings that would surround me when the words were spoken in that room and I felt the walls cave in around me.
“Roughly 16% (or 1 in 6) couples in Canada experience infertility. This number has doubled since the 1980s.” (Source – Government of Canada)
And while I was experiencing it the waves of envy of all of my friends, family, and strangers grew. I felt an inability to do the one thing my body was supposed to do.
There was an overwhelming loneliness that shadowed me pulling me deep into a sadness that I felt no one understood, not even my husband.
There was one thing I wanted more than anything and I wasn’t able to do it.
Everywhere I looked there were pregnant bodies, babies in strollers, showers being thrown, and little hands and toes.
It took a long time, med trials, two miscarriages, and a deep depression to come to the conclusion that it wasn’t going to happen a second time for us.
And it was there, amongst the sadness, that acceptance grew.
There will never be a magic pill, a counselling session, or a doctor who can make the feelings of infertility go away.
But with time, patience, and understanding they might just heal.
The week of April 21st is Infertility Awareness Week.
I’ve written this post in the hopes that even one person experiencing infertility reads and connects, knowing they aren’t alone in their struggle.